“What had we best do?” asked Bass.
“Hold on to the last,” answered Harry; “perhaps the gale may abate, and we may yet reach the shore.”
There seemed, however, but little hope of their doing this. Every instant larger portions of the wreck were carried away. It was evident that in a short time she would break up completely. Tom handed to each of the boys a length of rope.
“Make yourselves fast to any piece of timber you can get hold of,” he said; “it will give you the best chance of safety.”
Few of the people had by this time escaped, and every sea which broke over the wreck carried one or more away.
At length another tremendous sea came rolling towards them. A fearful crash followed. Harry and Bass found themselves floating together amid the boiling waters, with pieces of wreck tossed to and fro near them, a blow from which would have proved fatal, but not one struck them. Not far off they caught sight of Tom clinging to a portion of the poop deck. A sea carried them towards him. He hauled them up, and they made themselves fast to some ring-bolts. Though the seas washed over them, and they felt as if the breath would be knocked out of their bodies, they were not carried off; and they found that their raft was being driven rapidly towards the shore, now scarcely a quarter of a mile from them. Every instant they expected the raft to be turned over and over, but it floated as before, and, now lifted high on the summit of a breaker, and now sunk down into the hollow of the sea, went on and on till they felt it ground on the beach.
Tom told them to cast themselves adrift, when, seizing each by the arm, he dragged them forward, and in another instant they were on dry ground.
“Praise God for His mercy! We are safe!” cried Tom. “But now, boys, let us see if we can help any of our shipmates.”
They looked along the beach on either hand, but for some minutes they could discover no one.
“There is a man!” at length cried Tom. “I caught sight of his head and hand among the foam.”